The third and very likely final children’s book I’ll ever write, this one obviously wrapping up all the loose ends and plot threads that had been strung through Thank You, Bus! and Thank You, Coma!
Thank You, Meth Lab!
Joe was sad 
He was broke and had started working more hours to earn extra buckaroos
His job was a stinking heap of no fun
But what else could he do?
How does an honest lad of marginal skill and limited ambition make ends meet?
One day while lamenting the price of peas, Joe overhead some of his cube neighbors.
They were discussing the money making potential, and general coolness, of illicit drugs.
Joe liked money, and general coolness.
But he wasn’t much for drugs, as they had a hell of an affect on his asthma.
Plus he was much for the Big House, and didn’t know how to make a shiv.
Most importantly, Joe was broke, and had no start up funds.
Then he heard about the relative cheapness, ease of production, and general coolness of –
“Crystal meth!” a voice said. “We could start a meth lab!”
“Meth lab?” Joe said to himself, and was immediately on board.
They gathered the materials needed
They hired lackeys to mix the ingredients
There were only minor casualties in the process
Soon the greenbacks were flowing in like Niagara.
Pack mules and carrier pigeons were enlisted for distribution.
They never ratted Joe out when captured.
One hired goon had his eyes boil in his head like Easter eggs, but Joe didn’t know him.
While firing up a Cuban with a $100 bill, Joe muttered, through clenched teeth, “Thank You, Meth Lab!”
Now, life is good again.
Joe has safe deposit boxes and Swiss bank accounts stuffed with coin
He’s got a villa in Belize and a matching one in Manila
He’s got Dom Perignon in one hand and Johnny Walker Blue in the other
Now he’s just waiting for the heat to come breathing down his doorstep.
But until that day it’s full bore “Whoo hoo!” and “23 Skiddoo!” and –
“Thank You, Meth Lab!”
He was broke and had started working more hours to earn extra buckaroos
His job was a stinking heap of no fun
But what else could he do?
How does an honest lad of marginal skill and limited ambition make ends meet?
One day while lamenting the price of peas, Joe overhead some of his cube neighbors.
They were discussing the money making potential, and general coolness, of illicit drugs.
Joe liked money, and general coolness.
But he wasn’t much for drugs, as they had a hell of an affect on his asthma.
Plus he was much for the Big House, and didn’t know how to make a shiv.
Most importantly, Joe was broke, and had no start up funds.
Then he heard about the relative cheapness, ease of production, and general coolness of –
“Crystal meth!” a voice said. “We could start a meth lab!”
“Meth lab?” Joe said to himself, and was immediately on board.
They gathered the materials needed
They hired lackeys to mix the ingredients
There were only minor casualties in the process
Soon the greenbacks were flowing in like Niagara.
Pack mules and carrier pigeons were enlisted for distribution.
They never ratted Joe out when captured.
One hired goon had his eyes boil in his head like Easter eggs, but Joe didn’t know him.
While firing up a Cuban with a $100 bill, Joe muttered, through clenched teeth, “Thank You, Meth Lab!”
Now, life is good again.
Joe has safe deposit boxes and Swiss bank accounts stuffed with coin
He’s got a villa in Belize and a matching one in Manila
He’s got Dom Perignon in one hand and Johnny Walker Blue in the other
Now he’s just waiting for the heat to come breathing down his doorstep.
But until that day it’s full bore “Whoo hoo!” and “23 Skiddoo!” and –
“Thank You, Meth Lab!”
